


Check, Please: The Reboot

by JustAGirl24



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Condom humor, F/M, Porn With Plot, Tyrion is the condom imp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/pseuds/JustAGirl24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne in a diner. Some condom angst ensues.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Would you believe me if I said I have no idea where that came from?" he asked weakly, hoping to laugh it off. Brienne smiled stiffly, before she quickly and efficiently stuffed the bills back into his wallet and he tried to casually pocket the condom.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Check, Please: The Reboot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Check, Please](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545688) by [JustAGirl24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/pseuds/JustAGirl24). 



> So I wrote a fic. And it was originally supposed to be like _this_ fic, but then it became something else. But I couldn't leave it alone. 
> 
> So YES I REBOOTED MY OWN FIC. Shut up.

It happened, as most things do, completely by accident.

Jaime was seated in a tatty red vinyl booth across from Brienne at Walda’s Diner, laughingly fumbling his wallet with his good hand. One minute, he was trying to fish out his Westerosi Express to pay for their bill over her half-hearted protests, and the next—

Well, the next thing Jaime knew, he was staring, horrified, at the Formica table between them, where a shiny square packet lay amongst a few crisp twenties.

 _Gods,_  Jaime thought.  _I did not just drop a condom in front of Brienne like a godsdamn teenager._   

They sat in silence for several long, awkward moments, before Jaime couldn't take anymore.

"Would you believe me if I said I have no idea where that came from?" he asked weakly, hoping to laugh it off. Brienne smiled stiffly, before she quickly and efficiently stuffed the bills back into his wallet while pretending not to notice as he tried to casually pocket the condom.

Jaime was relieved when, a few minutes later, she was smiling and talking like everything was back to normal. He told the little niggling voice at the back of his head that it was a stupidly embarrassing mistake, nothing more.

It took him two weeks to figure out Brienne was avoiding him.

The thing was, Jaime knew Brienne was a terrible liar. Brienne knew that he knew she was a terrible liar. So when she missed their Monday morning run because it was 'that time', and Wednesday movie night because she had a headache, it couldn't be a lie. And when a business meeting popped up so that she had to cancel Thursday lunch, well, he knew the wench was dedicated to her job. He was disappointed when she begged off Saturday evening to spend with Margaery, who apparently had just gone through a major break up, but of course, what could he say?

But the following week found him with a phone full of text messages from Brienne, each one canceling their standing plans. Each excuse was more pathetic than the last, and that niggling voice at the back of his head started getting...well, suspicious.

He tried calling her to ask what was going on, but it always went to voicemail. He’d deny it to his dying day, but he’d listened to the prerecorded message more than once just because he missed the sound of her voice so damn much.

Tyrion was no help at all. When Jaime finally told the tale and voiced his suspicions, his brother had collapsed back in one of Jaime’s overstuffed chairs in laughter. “Only you, brother,” Tyrion had chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Only you.”

“I thought you might have some advice.” Jaime had realized what a mistake that was pretty quickly. “Since you're the reason there was a condom in my wallet in the first place.” Tyrion just shook his head.

Saturday evening found him sitting at their table. Alone. Brienne hadn’t even bothered to let him know she wouldn’t be coming this time.

Jaime stirred cream into his coffee, staring at the clouds forming and merging in his mug, then took a big gulp. He just didn’t _get_ it. Brienne had been his best friend for years now. She knew him better than anyone. She knew he hadn’t been on a date in ages. Had a dropped condom really been that bad? He sighed and flipped over the laminated list of pies on the table. He wouldn’t have minded using that condom with Brienne. Maybe that was it? Maybe she’d finally put two and two together and realized his interest.

Maybe he disgusted her. _Gods,_ why wouldn’t he? He was an asshole. A cripple. A sister-fucker. Just because she tolerated him as a friend didn’t mean she wanted him as anything more than that.

“Top you off, honey?” Jaime looked up to see Walda, plump and smiling in her pink dress and white apron, a pot of coffee in her hand. Her smile melted into a look of concern, and Jaime realized he must look as bad as he felt. He forced a smile and nodded, pushing his mug towards her. But instead of pouring the coffee and moving on, she sat in the booth across from him.

“Where’s your girl?” Walda asked, cutting to the chase, and Jaime sucked in a breath both at the thought of Brienne and Walda’s assumption. He smiled weakly.

“Not sure.” He tried a careless shrug. Walda wasn’t buying it.

“You two have a fight?” she asked.

 _You could say that,_ Jaime thought as he took a sip from his cup. He shrugged again. Walda’s gaze sharpened.

“Well, you’d best apologize, sugar.” She patted his arm and stood up, pink dress swirling around her knees. “You two’re the cutest couple that come here. Shame not to see you together.”

“We—we’re not—I mean,” Jaime spluttered. Walda arched an eyebrow at him, her dimples deepening into a smile which suggested she knew something he did not.

“Oh, you’re not?” Walda gave him one last smile before moving on to the next table. Jaime drained his mug, pulled a five out of his wallet, and put it on the table. It would more than cover the cup of coffee.

Brienne’s house wasn’t far away, and he thought the short walk might do him some good, clear out his head. But it seemed like no time had passed before he was looking at Brienne’s small white Cape Cod with the blue shutters. He could see a light on inside, a shadow passing by the window. He pulled in a deep breath and rang the doorbell. And waited. And waited. He was nothing if not persistent, his finger pressing the doorbell again and holding it until he heard heavy footsteps before the door opened.

Brienne greeted him with a scowl, visible through the screen door separating them.

“I’m sorry,” Jaime blurted. She continued to stare, lips pressed together in a thin line. “I am, Brienne, I’m sorry. For what happened.” He saw her face begin to turn a deep red, the flush rising from her neck, and she finally looked away from him.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she finally mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

Jaime snorted. “If that’s the case, then why was I at the diner alone tonight?” he demanded, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “We’re both adults, wench, it was just a _condom._ ”

She flinched at the word, as though she’d been struck. She still wasn’t looking at him. He felt a sinking in his gut.

“Can I come in?” he asked with a sigh. She reluctantly dragged her gaze back up to his, and he saw something like hurt behind her eyes. He wondered if he’d be able to fix this, if she’d even let him in. He was about to turn and leave when the screen door opened and Brienne motioned him inside.

Jaime followed her to her living room, taking in the sight of her strong, freckled, impossibly long legs emerging from thin blue sleep shorts riding high on her thighs. He cleared his throat and looked around the room as he waited for Brienne to turn around. He had missed this room, the hominess of it all: comfortable-looking chairs, a small TV, a bookcase overflowing with ratty paperbacks, everything bathed in the warm yellow light of a small lamp. The silence was almost more than he could bear, and still he waited.

“I’m not mad about the c-condom,” she finally stuttered out as she turned to face him, her face bright red, her eyes seeming to stare at a point around his right ear. Her tank top was blue as well, the outline of her nipples clear against the thin material.

He carefully lifted his gaze back to her face. “Is there something you _are_ mad about?” he asked after a moment. She shook her head, turning an even brighter red. “Then can you please explain why you’re avoiding me?”

Her fists clenched at her sides. “I-I just—I saw th- _that_ and I realized—”

Dread filled him. _So she did know._ “Realized what?” he muttered. If it upset her so much she couldn’t be friends with him anymore, he deserved to hear it from her. The long muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed.

“You don’t date,” she blurted. Jaime raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t date,” she repeated, “and maybe I’m the one holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he said quietly. _Well, not in the way she seemed to think._ She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his words.

“Maybe you want to be using those, but you can’t, because you spend all your time with me.” Her eyes were bright with tears, and Jaime felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He shook his head wordlessly. _Maybe she_ didn’t _know._ “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I-I—”

 _“Stupid,”_ he cut her off fiercely, gripping her right arm and giving a little shake. “When have I ever done anything I didn’t want to?” Her mouth worked soundlessly, and Jaime wanted nothing more than to grab her by the nape of her neck, pull her close, sink his teeth into that full bottom lip, and kiss her until she realized the last thing he felt for her was _sorry_ _._ Perhaps it was time for honesty, to see where it all led.

“Brienne,” he said quietly, “I can’t stop thinking about you. And the only person I _want_ to use those with is you.” Her eyes flew to his, astonished and astonishingly blue, before looking past his shoulder. He gave her time to ingest his words, his gaze roaming over her dear face, taking in the multitude of freckles, her twice-broken nose, her wide mouth. She finally blinked once, but still said nothing.

“Curse me or kiss me, Brienne. Something,” he pled, fingers flexing where they were still wrapped around her arm. Her lips quivered as she met his eyes. “Though I’d prefer if you kissed me,” he added with a half-smile.

“Yes,” she breathed. She’d barely exhaled the word before he covered her mouth with his own. He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck, his thumb resting on her racing pulse. _Oh gods,_ she said _yes._ Her fingers trembled where they rested on his shoulders. He couldn’t help groaning as she opened her mouth, her tongue brushing against his, awkward and shy and deliciously slow.

 _“Brienne,”_ he growled, tearing himself away from her and pulling in deep breaths. His forehead rested against hers, her panting breaths brushing his lips.  “Tell me to leave if you don’t want this to go any further.” Her eyes were dark and shining. She shook her head once, slowly, before pressing her lips to his again.

Jaime thought he would probably remember this moment for the rest of his life, the way she melted against him and moaned into his mouth as his fingers sank into the flesh of one rounded hip. She grasped his other wrist, her fingers brushing over the scarred stump, and tugged it around her waist as though it was nothing. He had a split-second memory of the one and only time he’d reached for Cersei with it, the revulsion twisting his sister’s delicate features, before he was brought back to the present by the gentleness of Brienne’s touch.

His mouth slid to her cheek, then her neck, tasting the freckles behind her ear. She shuddered, her nipples hard against his chest through the fabric of their shirts. _Gods,_ his cock was so fucking hard against the shifting muscles of her thigh. Her fingers kneaded down his back before sliding under his shirt, pressing into the base of his spine, his hips bucking a little at the pleasant pressure.

“Can I?” he murmured, fingers plucking the hem of her shirt before trailing up to scrape over her nipple.

“Yes,” she mewled, and he scrabbled to pull the thin blue fabric over her head, taking in her wide shoulders and small, pert breasts, all spattered with freckles. There was a particular patch adorning the inside of her left breast which had caught his attention. He ducked his head to taste, and she gasped sharply above him, her fingers spearing through his hair.

“You have the most gorgeous tits,” he muttered into her flesh, scraping his teeth over one brownish-pink nipple. A high keening sound left her lips, her fingers tightening in his hair almost painfully as he suckled her. He fumbled with his left hand to press between her thighs, frustrated at his lack of dexterity, but she ground back against him, hot and damp through the thin shorts.

“Bed?” he panted against her sternum, before pulling her other nipple between his teeth. She gave a little moan low in her throat before stepping back, her nipple pulling from his mouth with a small _pop._ She pulled him with her as they fumbled their way down the hallway, into her bedroom, pulling his shirt off somewhere along the way. Her knuckles grazed his oversensitive cock as she pushed his pants down, his breath hissing between his teeth at how _good_ it felt. He scrabbled with the elastic waistband of his briefs, sighing in relief as his cock sprung free. His hand moved almost of its own accord to wrap around himself, giving a few rough strokes. He watched Brienne as he did so, color high on her cheeks as she kept her gaze on his hand, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She took a step closer, gathering the drop of moisture on the tip of his cock with one finger and spreading it over the head in small circles. He groaned at the sensation, his hand still working his shaft in long, rough strokes as her curious, gentle fingers played with the tip.

 _“Shit,”_ he moaned, and tried to tell her to stop, but it was too late—he could feel his balls tightening, and _gods,_ he was coming all over her hand like a teenage boy having his first fumble. He stood there gasping, and surprise was clear in her vivid blue eyes. As his cock softened in his grasp, he had the vague feeling that he ought to be at least a little embarrassed. He looked down at her fingers, hovering near his cock and covered with his come, and couldn’t summon an ounce of self-consciousness.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked after several long moments, one pale, freckled arm coming up to cross over her chest uncertainly. He looked back up with a grin.

“Oh no,” he purred, dropping to his knees. “You did something very, very right,” he whispered, gazing up at her towering above him, feeling like a supplicant at the feet of a goddess. He tugged at the front of her shorts, which she stepped out of willingly enough, wiping her fingers off before letting them fall to the ground. He paused as he took her in, running his hand up her thigh. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathed, running his thumb along the crease where her hip and thigh met, nuzzling into the thick, fleecy hair covering her mound. “You smell so damn good.” Her sharp, panting breaths rang in his ears. “Get on the bed,” he growled.

Brienne took a shaky step backwards to the bed, settling herself in the middle and watching him with wide eyes. He grinned, crawling over her long limbs to settle between her legs.

“Now,” he said, grazing his teeth over the underside of her right breast. “I would like,” he paused, placing firm, wet kisses down her stomach, “to make you feel,” he dipped his tongue into her navel, “as good as you just made me feel.”

“W-what did you have in m-mind?” she stuttered, her fingers brushing through his hair.

Jaime placed a kiss on the soft skin of one thigh before pulling it over his shoulder, running his thumb along the seam of her. “I was thinking about tasting you,” he murmured, parting her with his thumb and flicking his tongue over her clit.

 _“Oh,”_ she breathed, her heel digging into his back. He chuckled, savoring the heavy, musky taste as he lapped at her cunt. She made little whining noises, grinding up into his mouth as he ran his stump along her leg. _“Jaime,”_ she moaned, her thighs shaking as he pressed one, then two fingers inside her. _“Oh!”_ And she was coming, clenching around his fingers, her clit pulsing against his tongue as she continued making little noises.

He was hard again, heavy and aching, and all he could think about was sinking into her hot, wet cunt, how it would feel wrapped around his cock. He rose onto his haunches, pulling her into a wet, messy kiss. “I want you,” he breathed into her neck, before sucking a mark into her neck. “I could go get that condom from my wallet?” he suggested with a grin. 

Brienne looked at him with wide, dark eyes, her breath coming in harsh pants. “I have an IUD.” Her face turned a darker red, her gaze skittering to the side.

“I’m clean,” Jaime said hoarsely, swallowing nervously. “You…know my history.” She looked at him a moment before smiling shyly, opening her arms to him. He sank into them gratefully, feeling her strong hands run slowly over his back. His cock was nestled between her thighs, the blunt head pressed to her entrance. He gave her a questioning look and she nodded, gasping into his ear as he felt just the tip slide in. _Seven fucking hells_ , she was tight around him as he rocked into her, her heels crossed against his lower back pulling him even deeper.

 _"Brienne,”_ he gasped, and he tried to pull out, to slide back into her, but she held him in place, twitching around his cock. “Seven hells, _Brienne,”_ he grunted in quiet frustration. Her chest was heaving against his, sweat slicking both their bodies, and she _wouldn’t let him move._ “Please,” he moaned, and finally, he was moving inside her, deep and fast as he could go. She was keening beneath him, _please_ and _Jaime_ and _more_ falling from her thick lips. He could feel the fluttering of her cunt, knew he was close to coming. He braced his weight on his shortened forearm, the fingers of his good hand playing over her swollen clit. She shrieked, her back arcing in a beautiful bow as she clenched around him. He was right behind her, a last few thrusts before spilling inside her warmth, her nails sinking into his shoulders as he shuddered against her.

His breathing was loud as an aurochs, his muscles trembling before he collapsed on top of her for a moment, feeling her body stretched beneath his. “I love you,” she breathed into his ear. He froze for a moment, finally pulling back a little to look at her. She stared at him, eyes wide and hopeful but also a little defiant, as though perhaps she hadn’t meant to say it. He smiled, rolling to the side to put his head on the pillow next to hers.

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her shoulder before placing a kiss there, and felt her relax against him as they drifted off to sleep.


End file.
